Changes
by Miss Radioactive
Summary: How quickly can you lose your love for someone? Well, for Hermione it only took a second, and now she needs help. They say help is always given to those who ask for it, but when pride is allowed to act as an obstacle, that help may not longer be welcome..
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Practice Doesn't Always Make Perfect

Hermione and Ron were getting married tomorrow, and the whole of the Weasley household was in complete chaos as a result. In half an hour, they all needed to be at the venue chosen for tomorrow's reception to attend the rehearsal dinner.

"Will someone iplease/i help me do up this zipper?" cried Ginny for what felt like the hundredth time. She was the maid of honour, and though everyone else had some time to spare before getting ready, busying themselves with other things, she was supposed to be helping dress Hermione as well as herself, and was highly agitated because of it.

"Come here, Ginny," sighed an exasperated Ron. "There you go, no harm done."

As soon as the zip was fully fastened, she disappeared up the stairs once more.

Eventually, with a lot of hustle and bustle, the entire Weasley family, along with Harry and Hermione, were ready. They Apparated, one by one, to the venue.

The venue itself was set by a lake, and was only a five-minute walk from the church. It was a beautiful area, except for one, singularly unattractive, thing.

In the field adjacent to where a huge marquee had been set up, there was a Muggle barn used for storing animals in the winter. It was currently empty. It was not, however, the romantic, thatched type of barn that could often be discovered in Muggle children stories, with rafters of wood, sun shining through the skylight and a weather vane on the top, no, this particular affair held a distinctly modern feel to it, with its metal roof and walls.

Hermione had learned everything she could about the barn, when she begun looking into places for the reception. She had fallen head over heels in love with the clearing by the lake as soon as she saw it. She had been especially attracted by the relaxing sounds of the river that fed the lake, accompanied by the slight rush of wind as it stirred the willow trees on the far bank.

For that reason, she said the barn's presence did not matter, and that the marquee was to face away from the landmark, towards the lake, so people could not see it.

All of the guests were arriving now, babbling excitedly and talking about the following day's wedding. Assembled were what seemed to be the entire Weasley family, most of the Granger family, the Order of the Phoenix, and some other close friends. As people greeted each other, Ron approached Hermione, who had been watching the proceedings.

"Do you want to walk down to the church?" he asked. "Have our own little practice before tomorrow?"

"Sounds great, Ron," she replied. They linked fingers and began to walk.

When they reached the church, they found it open. Ron looked at Hermione and said,

"Come on, let's really practice."

With that, he walked up to the altar. "Right, now you walk down to me like you will tomorrow."

Hermione began to walk, and as she did so, a strange feeling built up inside of her, like nothing she had ever felt before. This did not seem right, this walking. It was awkward and uncomfortable, as if she should not be doing it.

When she finally reached Ron, she looked at him and it hit her. All of a sudden, she had lost the desire to marry him, to be with him, to share his bed. It felt as though someone had reached into her heart and flicked a switch. A switch that had been set to "on" since the end of their seventh year at Hogwarts. Now it was off, and tomorrow seemed more like a curse than a blessing.

Oh, shit! She thought desperately. What the hell I am supposed to do now?

"Sorry, Ron, I have to go…um, nerves, I guess. It feels strange being in here tonight."

"But you said…Hermione!"

"I'm sorry, Ron!"

She jumped up and ran for the door. Outside, she Apparated back to the marquee, but instead of having to face her friends inside, congratulating her and wishing her good luck for tomorrow, she turned on her heel and headed for the barn.

Once she was inside, she shut the heavy sliding door behind her, slid down the wall and cried on the straw. "Oh God, someone help me, please! What do I do?"

She could not hurt Ron by walking out on him...could she? He had been looking forward to this wedding for months. What about Molly? She had put so much effort into getting everything just right. How could she upset her when she had done nothing but be kind and accommodating towards her?

At that very moment, meters away, people were gathering in that marquee, talking animatedly about tomorrow's wedding. She knew in the very core of her heart that she did not have it in her to walk in there right now, and just call out, "Sorry everyone, but I've decided that I know longer want to marry Ron."

She did not know how long she sat there for, crying desperately into her knees, a sound so pitiful anyone who heard would have taken pity on her. Well, almost anyone. She looked up and saw the barn door being pulled silently open.

"And what is the meaning behind all this wailing, Miss Granger? Aren't you supposed to be down in the marquee, celebrating the eve of your wedding with your family and friends?"

Hermione felt her mouth plummet to the floor like a rock. Of all the people who could have found her here, make-up in streaks down her face, her hair in a mess and straw on her dress, this surely was one of the worst-case scenarios.

Hermione's eyes rose from the black polished shoes, up past the knees shrouded in their usual black robes, to the black buttons, the greasy black hair, and the eyes boring into hers. The old Potions Master and reluctant hero of the war, Severus Snape.

"Sir!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I see manners have continued to evade you, Miss Granger. In case you have forgotten, I am still a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and I recall that your invitation was addressed to every existing member. Am I correct?"

He was, of course, but Hermione loathed admitting it. She was shocked to see him there, hardly changed by the war at all.

i In fact, /i she thought to herself, iif I saw a picture of him as he is today, along with images of him throughout the years I have known him, I would be hard pressed to put them in any sort of order. He has not changed a bit./i

"Miss Granger, as lacking in manners as you are, I would have thought that even you would know it is considered rude to stare."

"Yes sir, and although your knowledge is far from lacking, I would have believed you to understand the fact that you will seldom find a woman whose manners are perfect when she is discovered in the middle of an emotional turmoil."

"Oh please, Miss Granger, I hardly think that nerves before a wedding count as emotional turmoil."

"What have I said that gives you the impression that it's nerves about the wedding, and not something more serious?"

"The fact that you are here alone tells me that it is not something you can discuss freely with your maid of honour, and considering that she also happens to be the sister of the groom, I am led to the conclusion that it has something to do with tomorrow or with the groom himself."

"Observant, yet hardly conclusive."

"Well then, Miss Granger, why are you up here?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Well then, Miss Granger, why are you up here?"

Bollocks. Now what?

The way she saw it, she had three options:

1. Say nothing and enrage him to the point where he would force the truth from her anyhow.

2. Lie.

3. Tell the truth.

Shit.

She highly doubted she had the balls to stand there and say nothing – it wasn't in her nature, considering she had always been one to answer any question given, and by now it was simply a habit. That left two options, and lying was clearly out. After all, this was Severus Snape, one of the greatest Legilimens of all time, and even against people who couldn't invade her mind, her lying was average at best.

Great. One option left, the inevitable one: tell him the truth.

"Well, sir… Um…well, you see… The thing is…um…"

"Miss Granger, despite the fact that I enquired as to why you are sitting here sniffling, don't assume that I shall stand here all evening and wait for what I am sure will be a pathetic tale anyway."

Hermione felt her blood boil.

"Then leave, why don't you? What makes you so sure that I'll even tell you? Or that the answer will be of interest to you anyway?"

As she said this, she looked up into his face and saw something she couldn't place flash across his face. Before she had a chance to look again, it was gone.

When he next spoke, his voice had lost that patronizing sneer it had always carried before now.

"Miss Granger, I will not be leaving because I have known you for a considerably long time, and I know that you are no coward. If this was something easily dealt with, then you would have already done so. Despite what I said earlier, you are an incredibly capable young woman, and I am here because you look as though you need help, though I have never known you to need help before."

As he said that, Hermione felt a sudden glow expand from her heart. He was here to help when no one else was. The more she considered it, he was the only one who had bothered to look for her, and she had hardly hidden very far away. Surely she could trust him, couldn't she? Summoning all her Gryffindor courage, she took a deep breath and looked up into her former teacher's face.

"I am here, Sir, because I…I discovered I am not as well suited to Ron as I thought, and I really have to get out of this wedding but I don't know how, and all methods I can think of requires too much courage. I don't know what to do."

As Severus Snape looked down at this young woman, he felt something he hadn't felt in years flash briefly across his chest: sympathy.

He knew she had been considered for submission to both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw before she was finally sorted. She was noble and loyal as most Hufflepuffs, and so she had considered going through with the wedding; she was as clever as a Ravenclaw, yet couldn't think of a cordial way out of her predicament; and her bravery was so huge that it had lead her to defeat the Dark Lord only three years before. Yet here she sat, and her bravery had run out. She couldn't bring herself to hurt her friend or his family. This was the reason she had not been considered for Slytherin: she was selfless and would never consider her own situation before others. Of course, had it been in her nature to consider such a thing, she would have seen a way out before now. But since it was not, he would have to give her a hint.

"What about magic, Miss Granger?"

"Sir?"

"You are a witch, Miss Granger, so why not use magic to help you? There are many potions that could help you, if brewed in time. They are not well known, but they still exist."

"But Sir, I have hardly any time left!" she cried.

This was true. Severus had intended to leave once he had planted the idea into her head, but now he saw there was no hope for her if she was left to help herself. Not only would she have to locate the correct method, but she would also need a place to brew, as well as the ingredients. She could hardly brew such a delicate potion in her kitchen, and if she asked to use one of her friend's cauldrons tonight, the game would be up.

Before he had time to think through what he was about to say, he blurted it out:

"I shall help you, Miss Granger."

As she gazed up at him in awe, believing herself to have misheard, they both suddenly became aware of voices on the slope behind the barn getting closer.

"Quickly, Miss Granger, we are leaving."

"Where are we going?"

"My home, but it is quite a distance, even by apparition. You will need to hold on tightly." She took his hand and grasped firmly. "No, Miss Granger, you shall need to hold onto my waist."

For a moment, she seemed unsure. Then she appeared to shake herself mentally, walked forward, and took her potions master into a strong embrace. Severus Snape had not been hugged since the time he and Lily had first seen Hogwarts. He remembered it clearly. She was so excited, she jumped up and ran to him across the carriage, capturing him into a rib-breaking hug. That was the first time he had been hugged too – Mrs. and Mr. Snape were not the emotional sort.

Now he stood there, being embraced by a young woman of 20 years of age, and he was unsure how to react.

_She has to!_ he mentally scolded himself. _She needs your help and quickly, so stop considering her holding you and go!_

With that, he placed an arm around her shoulders and disappeared in a blink.


	3. Chapter 3

The compressing darkness subsided and they landed with a thump. Well, she did.

Once Hermione's head had stopped spinning, she slowly and gingerly staggered to her feet. Looking around, she saw they had landed in a beautiful orchard. The smell of apples hung in the air and, looking down a small slope, she saw a quaint and airy cottage with Tudor-style wooden beams and a thatched roof.

"Where are we?" Hermione questioned. She had been sure they were going to Spinners End, the home Snape lived in when not working at the school – at least, that was where she assumed he lived, since that was where Dumbledore forwarded any mail that landed at school during the holidays.

"Where do you think? That cottage is my home."

"I thought you lived in Spinners End?"

"Well, I do not."

His sharp answer startled her back to the reality of who she was conversing with.

"But, why—"

"Miss Granger, humour me," he sneered at her. Hermione thought the irony of him asking for humour whilst clearly displaying the complete opposite was slightly amusing, but she reminded herself that smirking back at him would hardly help her cause.

"Suppose for an instant that you are a death eater. What would you think if you arrived here and were told this was the home of Voldermort's right-hand man, that the orchard behind the place was planted by him, as was the herb garden so he could grow potions ingredients, and that this is where he relaxes and watches the sun set on the valley below him? What would you think?"

"You enjoy watching sunsets?"

"That, Miss Granger, is not what I said. I was merely asking for your immediate response to a hypothetical situation, considering the psyche of the average death eater."

Once again, she was reminded of whom she was talking to, and loathed as she was to admit it, it did make sense to her: he would lose all credibility within the death eaters' ranks, should his home be revealed. However, she paused before answering, considering the possibility of the dreaded potions master taking time out of his schedule to watch the sunset.

"Miss Granger, an answer, if you please. Preferably before sundown."

"You have a point. I reckon death eaters don't enjoy beauty, and I think it's reasonable to suggest they may view appreciating it as weak or something. I assume the death eater's views on beauty are of a more cardinal sort, if we assume for the purpose of this discussion, that the rumours about death eater revels are true, well, that proves my point, don't you think? So, it makes perfect sense that you should hide your home here. But why choose Spinners End as a decoy?"

"Do you never stop? I asked for a simple answer, and you give me a complete analysis of the average death eater's views on beauty, followed by another question."

She looked up into his face then, and if she hadn't known better, she would have thought that sparkle behind his eyes might have been amusement. But she did know better. Severus Snape did not smile. It was far more likely that she had annoyed him.

"Sorry," she said meekly.

"Apology accepted, Miss Granger. As it happens, Spinners End did, in fact, belong to the name of Snape, as far as my parents owned it, but it holds no value to me. But the idea of the bat of the dungeons – oh yes, Miss Granger, you surely didn't think I don't know the nicknames I had or, indeed, have – living in a run down hovel seems fitting, don't you think?"

Clearly this was a rhetorical question. It was getting late now, and a crisp wind whipped up from the valley. She shivered. She wanted to run down the hill and burst into the cottage. Didn't he realize her time was limited? Hello! She was meant to be getting married tomorrow!

"Come, Miss Granger, the night gets closer every second, and it is getting rather cold."

With that, he spun on his heel and stalked into the cottage. Finally! Hermione followed quickly behind him, still puzzling over the most confusing point about this whole situation. Why was Severus Snape helping her?

*****************

As she entered through the door after Severus, she gaped. Never in a million years had she expected that her feared potions master and head of Slytherin (even though he had not been her teacher for three years, she found old habits and views died hard, so to her, he was still an authority in her life. It didn't feel too odd to say he was still her potions professor because after all, she never had another one to replace his memory with) to have a country kitchen matching the exterior impression given off by the outer walls.

On one side was a large, black iron, wood-powered range with room to place several large dishes inside and have four more pans cooking on the top. She did not expect to see how the pine wood table was scrubbed hard and was perfectly clean, as was the flagstone floor. What did puzzle her was the number of miniature stools dotted around the room.

"Um, sir...what're those stools for?"

"They, Miss Granger, are for my house elf." He was well aware of her views on house elf slavery, so he braced himself for the inevitable scowl and potential rage that followed this statement.

"Oh. Does she have a name?" Sure enough, there was the expected frown creasing her brows.

"Pearl."

"Okay." That was a start, at least, "What about freedom? Do you pay her?"

"My my, Miss Granger, I am impressed. You must have grown up recently. I was expecting to have to deal with a full-scale temper tantrum, but instead you asked calmly and collectively. Well, who would have thought it? Since you did ask in such a fashion, I will answer you. In the technicalities of it, yes, she is free. She wears clothing at least, but she refuses payment on any level other than her keep. So that is what I give her."

"That…sounds reasonable," she concluded.

"Care to meet her?"

"Oh, um, okay."

With that, he clapped his hands twice, and with a sharp "crack", a tiny house elf appeared between them.

She was smaller than Dobby and had a somewhat feminine face, despite the huge ears. She was dressed similarly to Muggle toddlers: she had on a pale pink t-shirt that fell to her knees and pale purple leggings peeping out underneath. She wore small white booties on her feet, and Hermione had to concede that she was one of the best-dressed house elves she had ever seen.

"Hello, Pearl. My name's Hermione."

"Um…hello, Miss."

"Pearl, I require my oldest potions book. You know the one I mean?"

"Yes sir. Pearl will fetch it directly."

"Bring it down to us in the lab. Be quick, this is urgent."

Pearl dashed out, and Hermione turned to Severus with a questioning look upon her face. "You already know the potion we need to brew? And the exact book with the methods in it?"

This was a great relief to her. Perhaps there would be enough time after all. She had imagined that they'd need time to research, but if he was sure of the potion, all they needed to do was brew it.

"As it happens, the book containing the potion is one of my most prized possessions. It is an original copy of the book from the first publication, and my mother gave it to me before she died many years ago. This book is the main reason I became more interested in potions after finishing my schooling. Of course, it has been update and re-published since, but there is something about having an old and original copy that I find enticing, even if it had not been a gift from my mother."

Hermione understood that completely. She loved the feel of old tomes under her fingers, and there was something a little special about the heavy quality to the parchment pages too.

As Severus talked, he led her down a twisting flight of wooden stairs and into a basement that had been adapted and changed into a lab perfect for brewing potions in. The book was already there on the bench beside a clean, scrubbed caldron.

"Look at it if you want. The page you need is 183."

Hermione slowly picked up the book. As she looked through the old worn pages, she could not help but wonder why he was helping her. In the end, she decided it did not matter. She let it be. But just as she decided this, Severus returned with many potion ingredients in his arms, and she rendered the decision useless.

"You are doubtless wondering why I am helping you, are you not?"

"Well, I've never seen you like this, sir. It's… well, odd."

"Contemplate this then: do you not have different personas depending on who you're with?"

"Well, yeah, of course."

"And what do you think would happen if someone were to cross the boundaries of each category? Would your manner change?"

"Well, yeah, I guess."

"Well then, there you have it. You are now no longer a student or a co-worker, so I think I may treat you as a companion. After all, you never angered me as the other idiots in your class or even your year did."

That made sense to her. All he said was true.

"You have a point…um…sir."

She was sure that no matter which particular boundaries she had crossed, "sir" was still the correct form of address.

"Yes. Now, enough talking. We need to begin. Page 183."

This reminded her of how little time she had available to her.

They worked together in silence for a considerable amount of time. Hermione guessed they had been working for about three hours when Severus raised a hand to her and told her it was time to let the potion simmer while they prepared for the final stage of brewing.

"What that? The final stage?" she questioned.

"Adding the personalizing link to the potion. As the potion stands now, it could be used for anyone, by anyone. We need to complete the potion by adding your hair to it, and then you need to submerge your head within the potion itself while thinking of Mr. Weasley. Be warned, when we add your hair, the potion will reveal something about your nature to us both."

"What sort of thing?"

"It differs from person to person, but normally it has something to do with your past relationships, perhaps something particularly vivid or personal to you, since this potion is directly linked to relationships in itself. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I think so."

She had a strange idea of what the potion was about to reveal, but she knew there was no way to avoid it. She found herself musing over how it might disclose the secret she had buried deep inside her to this man she hardly knew. Would he guess? She hoped not.

"This potion differs from many others because it requires two people to brew it, rather than one."

"What will this potion actually do, sir?"

"It will transfer the feelings you currently have about your wedding tomorrow into the mind of Mr. Weasley without him actually having to drink it. He will then view the thoughts as his own, and he will be the one to cancel the wedding. He doesn't have to drink it because it is combined with a charm, said as you are submerged in the potion. This is why it must be brewed by two people. In the past, this has never been an issue for brewers, since it is normally used to escape arranged marriages and to elope with the other party. The potion's original name, as printed in this book, suggests this: 'Modificări Prin Alegere' translates to 'changes by choice' in Latin. Modern texts do not use the original name; they have simply dubbed it the "Elopement Elixir." Far too dramatic, for my way of thinking."

Hermione had to agree with him. Like old book pages, titles in dead tongues intrigued her.

"Are you ready? You will need to have the hair cut off before submerging your head into the water. Once your personal representation has dissolved back into the potion, you should then place your face into the potion. You must think of the Weasley boy while you do this, along with the reasons you don't want to marry him and the feelings associated with those reasons. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," she replied nervously. She did not want him to see her "personal representation" as he called it. She knew it would lead to questions she couldn't possibly avoid answering, but they were inevitable. Unavoidable. And she may as well get on with it.

This decided, she stepped towards him, and he raised a bronze blade to a tress at the base of her neck.

"Okay. Ready? Go."

With that, he brought the blade through her hair and the small section came away. Quickly, he added it to the potion. At once the potion began to steam and a smell Hermione had not smelt in a very long time filled the air. Then suddenly, all the steam was absorbed back into the potion, and a silver-white miniature version of a younger Hermione rose from the potion. Surrounding her, yet not quite touching, were what looked like roses winding around this beautiful creature. Hermione could tell they were roses, but the thorns seemed more prominent than the flowers. They were the colour and texture of storm clouds: thick yet floating, and undulating purples, reds, and blues.

The thorns grew tighter, and suddenly they looked more like a chain binding the sweet and innocent form of Hermione. The pain of the memory linked with the symbol was so accurate that the real, nineteen-year-old Hermione cried out, and as she did so, the figure sunk back into the swirling potion below.

"Now!" cried Snape from behind her, and she plunged her face into the water, pushing the sudden stab of pain away, and recalling all the feelings crucial for the final stage of the potion. She felt a hand upon her shoulder, and she raised her head. It was done. The potion was complete, and she would be free once more.

Snape handed her a towel, which she placed over her shoulders and under her hair to keep the potion from her robes.

Only now did she realize she had started to cry.

"Miss Granger, are you a virgin?"

Slowly, she nodded.

_Well, at least that little scene didn't represent a rape_, Severus thought to himself. But it was still plain to see that whatever it _had_ represented was not pleasant, and it disturbed him to realize the figure in the potion was many years younger than the women who was now standing and crying in front of him. She looked to be about thirteen at most.

"Tell me what that sequence we just witnessed represented, Miss Granger. You can trust me."

She didn't know what possessed her to believe him about the latter point, but she took a deep, shuddering breath and began to speak.

**A.N. **

Evil cliffy, I know. *laughs evilly* But I promise to update quickly. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed; keep them coming. Plot predictions welcome.

Thank you also to my wonderful beta, Mystical Spirits! She does a brilliant job, and the chapters would be much worse without her.

If you want to see my image of Pearl, go to:

danicavender(dot)deviantart(dot)com(slash)art(slash)Pearl-Changes-Chapter-3-106816555


	4. Chapter 4

Where was she to start? Hermione decided her silence had plagued her for long enough; it was time to break her solitude, but that did not make it any easier to start.

"I need you to tell me, Miss Granger. We both just witnessed that highly graphic representation, and it is important you let me help you, if I can. Shall I ask you questions, would that be preferable to you?"

She was still crying, and although no sound was leaving her, it made it difficult for her to both breathe and speak, so she simply nodded and swallowed.

"How old were you when, whatever that display represented, occurred?"

Again she swallowed hard and this time found enough breath to speak.

"13 years old. It was the summer after my third year at Hogwarts."

"Did the symbol represent something sexually orientated?" Severus believed this to be obvious, but he thought it best to check, and by asking outright, he hoped to clear some of the awkwardness away from discussing such a thing with a teacher.

She nodded.

"Okay, fine. Did it concern someone you knew or a stranger?"

"Someone I knew. I knew him very well…" Her voice trailed off into nothingness, and Severus paused to look at this unique woman in front of him. Here she was, confessing to him something so dark that even a symbolic reference to it turned her to a weeping, fragile ball before him. He needed to get to the bottom of this and fast. Not that time was an issue per se, but if she kept this locked inside her for any longer, it would cause even more damage than it had already.

Then something clicked inside Severus. The roses. Why roses? Why not chains or brambles?

He slowly leaned forward and said more than asked, "He was a boyfriend of yours. A lover. Someone you had given a great deal of trust to. Am I correct?"

"Yes. And he and I had been together for a year and a half when he…I…this happened." She finished weakly.

"Are you ready to tell me?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath, breathing in until she felt like her body might burst if she took in any more air, then she let it all out in a rush and began.

***********

"I was thirteen-years-old, and since I was home for the summer, my mother thought it would be nice to catch up with some family friends we hadn't seen for a while. She didn't know about Matt, that's his name. He's a muggle boy I had been going out with since I was 11 and a half. Obviously, when you're 11, it's not really a relationship, more like an amazing friendship that would someday turn into a relationship. Nevertheless, I still told my friends at home he was my 'boyfriend' even though it didn't mean very much.

"Because our relationship was a secret, kept from both our families, and with me living at school most of the time, we saw each other quite infrequently. But this didn't matter, and from the age of about 12 and a half, we were, um, experimenting, you know? Testing out what kissing was, and how it felt to hold someone else's hand, that sort of thing.

"Then, when we were 13 years old—" she stopped, and when Severus looked into her eyes, he knew this was the linchpin to her situation: the central point around which the symbol evolved.

"Sir, I can't tell you anymore. Do you have a pensieve? I want to show you what I can't talk about."

Severus paused. He wasn't sure whether his help was required to the extent of seeing his ex-pupil being attacked before him. After all, at the time this happened, he was still partially responsible for her well-being, and although she had not been at school at the time, she had to struggle with the burden from that point onwards until here she stood, nineteen and desperate to confide in someone.

"I do have a pensieve, Miss Granger, but there is something you should know about it. I have modified the pensieve so not only can a person view all the memories, but also the person can experience the emotions felt by the person at the time. If we were to enter your memory, you and I would both recall the emotions you felt at the time of this incident. Are you willing to open up that much?"

Her next, simple sentence hit him like a brick.

"I trust you, sir."

He swallowed, then regained his manner after fighting with his facial features, willing them not to show the shock he felt. This used to come easily to him in his days as a spy, but the skill hadn't been needed since then. After all, his normal expression, that scowl of disgust, was genuine enough. The students he taught were idiots, plain and simple.

But not this girl.

No, she was brilliant, even if she was too eager to please and let her emotions play across her face like a muggle movie, leaving her open to bullies who wished to exploit her insecurities. Here she was, in a strange house with someone she didn't really know, confessing the darkest moment of her life. And somewhere she had found the courage to say she trusted him. No one trusted him: the spy, the death-eater. Apart from this one brave little girl. No matter how old she was right now – she could have been any age – she was a little girl, standing there and bravely looking up into his face.

This great revelation took mere moments, and after it was over he looked down at her, and then, in a sweep of robes, he went to collect the pensieve.

"Have you ever removed a memory from your head before?"

"No, I haven't."

"Okay, relax and bring the memory into your mind. Place your wand tip against your head and slowly probe with it until you feel a magical bond from the memory to your wand, then pull slowly."

She did this, and slowly she eased the memory out of her mind and let it dance into the pensieve. She took his hand in hers and placed her wand to the substance. With that, they both fell face first into the pensieve.

**********************

When the world stopped spinning, he refocused his eyes and looked around him.

He was in a rectangular bedroom that was longer than it was wide, and he was facing the road he could see out of the large window directly in front of him. Beneath the window was a small desk covered in papers and stationary. He was standing next to the door, and on his other side was a large bookcase, full of books and trophies, which looked related to football. The door was on the left of the room, and behind the door was a cabin bed with a desk and small sofa, which looked like it would pull out into a futon.

On the folded futon, there was a younger version of Hermione with a handsome young boy of around the same age. He was cradling her in his arms, stroking her hair.

He looked tall, and Severus could tell he was going to be handsome, striking. He had blonde hair and dark blue-grey eyes and even though he was only about 13, his arms and chest looked muscular and athletic under his t-shirt.

As Severus watched, he realized the boy was asking the young Hermione something. He walked closer to listen.

"How do you take it?"

Severus felt confusion flood his body, followed by embarrassment. Until this point, he had forgotten the added components to this pensieve, but now he recalled that he would experience all emotions the young girl on the futon felt.

"How do you like it…? Fast or slower?"

Severus now felt a burning desire not to appear stupid in front of this boy.

Then, as though giving her time to consider the question, the boy leaned in, and kissed her deeply. This disturbed Severus because, as the warmth, trust, and amazement felt by Hermione rushed through him, he had the knowledge of what may be about to happen and what the boy meant with his cryptic messages.

Clearly he was talking about sex, but innocent and virginal Hermione didn't have a clue, and the boy seemed too embarrassed by the subject himself to mention the word directly, thereby confusing the whole situation. The poor girl never had a chance.

The amazement that wasn't his increased as the boy reached out and caressed her awkwardly, from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine, leaving his hand resting on her bottom. When he did this, the amazement grew more intense and turned to what was possibly arousal, but since the girl herself was unsure of the feeling, he too could not be certain.

The boy drew back and looked at the girl. Suddenly he took her by the shoulders and flipped her so she was lying horizontal across the futon on her back.

"Slowly, I guess," little Hermione answered uncertainly, gazing into his face, and Severus's feeling of wonder and trust was replaced with a hope that it was the answer Matt wanted.

"I take it faster, myself."

Severus was sure the boy was just as virginal as Hermione, but that he had gained knowledge and ideas from watching porn. Internally, Severus scoffed at this thought. Considering how much of Matt's knowledge was bluffing, Severus lost focus on the young lovers in front of him.

He was jolted back to the scene when a huge wave of shock and realization swept through him. Looking back at the couple, he could see that Hermione had just felt Matt's erection brush up against her leg, and this had made her make the connection that had thus far been invisible: Matt wanted to have sex with her.

This conclusion had been solidified when Matt moved his hand from her hip and placed it directly against where her sex would be, had she not been wearing jeans.

Young Hermione took a breath to steady her and said, "No. No, don't Matt. I don't want to."

Severus was impressed, he could feel her shock, yet she answered coolly and without pushing him away. Yet he was also aware that this incident alone was not enough to create the scene he had witnessed in the cauldron. Then, he saw why.

Anger had flooded the boy's face, and he leapt back from the girl. His erection was still visible through his light trousers and that only angered him more.

Then, he whispered with menace, "I. Don't. Care."

At those words, terror that didn't belong there rushed through Severus's veins. As he watched, he saw the young boy heave at the bookcase, pushing it just far enough that it was impossible to get through the door, since the door opened inwards, and the bookcase was between the door and the side from which it opened.

Hermione began to shake, still rooted on the futon. Severus felt another feeling running alongside hers, and realized that the want, the need, to protect that little girl was his own. But of course, there was nothing he could do. He was powerless.

In desperation, he turned toward the older Hermione, who had been standing silently beside him throughout the encounter.

She shook her head and said, "You know I'm a virgin. The rest you have to watch."

He held back the shout of exasperation and wrenched his eyes back to the couple in front of him. The boy had approached the futon once more and was leaning over Hermione, pinning her shoulders with his hands.

Severus could see Matt's erection jutting out in front of him, pressing into Hermione's stomach, her breathing heavy. She was panicking, yet there was something else in her eyes. Understanding. This confused Severus, and he turned to face the young woman. This simply confused him more. She had the same expression on her face.

"What?" he asked some what tersely.

"What?" she said defensively.

"Why are you looking at him like that? Both of you have the same expression on your face, only your understanding seems hardened."

"That's because I know what comes next. But we both understand why he is angry—"

"Because he wanted his fix," he interrupted explosively. "That's why. That is no excuse!"

"No, it isn't. He is only 13 too. And what are you supposed to feel when you have an erection that you can't control, plainly visible to someone you trusted, that turned you away when you are most exposed."

"My god, girl! Whatever is about to happen is _not_ your fault. You mustn't blame yourself for it!"

"It's close now, watch."

As he turned, Severus saw little Hermione take a huge breath, steeling herself, and he felt a wave of determination surge through him. Then, she pushed up with all her strength so both of them were standing as equals, instead of her lying down and vulnerable.

"Matt, no. I didn't understand before, but now I do. I don't want to have…do that. Okay? Please open the door. I need some space, just for a little while, and then I'll come back, or come find you, whatever. Okay?"

"No, you're mine! And I want you. Now!" Severus recoiled at the anger in his face. No young boy should look like that, and no man should ever become that possessive. Clearly Hermione thought the same, and a wave of her anger flooded through him.

From somewhere deep within her, she found the strength to push Matt away again and tried to move the bookcase, but it wouldn't budge.

_You are a witch! _Severus thought desperately, but to no avail. _Use wandless magic!_

Hermione spun away from the cramped, enclosed corner when she heard Matt approaching behind her. The anger had dissipated somewhat, to be replaced by panic once more.

Looking around, she recalled that there was no other way out apart from that door, so once again she rushed towards it, heaving with every ounce of strength in her young body. Her efforts were rewarded when the bookcase moved back just far enough for her to squeeze through, and she ran out into the hall.

As he watched her go, the world in which Severus was standing began dissolving once more.


End file.
